


No is Not Her Safeword

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, actor tom hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: D/s, Erotica, F/M, Fluff, Sex, Spanking with ruler, dom!Tom, dominant Tom, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's sub tries - unsuccessfully to avoid his touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No is Not Her Safeword

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW
> 
> Just a stupid piece of fluffy crap.
> 
> Nothing special.
> 
> Photo sources:
> 
> Chair
> 
> http://www.liveauctioneers.com/item/4366266
> 
> Sleeves
> 
> http://nyyhkykyyhky.tumblr.com/post/77824830561
> 
> Tom
> 
> http://tomhiddlestonappreciationblog.tumblr.com/post/23973403356/masterpost-tom-hiddleston-wearing-a-suit-episode-1
> 
> Ruler
> 
> http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/ladyd/ruler.htm

 

 

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Tom/No_zpsb8bdb358.jpg.html)

 

"Did you just try to skirt away from my touch, baby?" he asked, his voice soft and soothing but with a firm edge to it as he inexorably drew her to him. She could certainly _try_ to avoid him, but he wouldn't allow her to get away with it for very long, and he was about to demonstrate to her that that kind of behavior was going to get her into trouble.

He could already see the answer to his question by the way she was studiously avoiding looking at him, and the fact that she was worrying that full lower lip of hers with her teeth.

Tom generously gave her a long beat in which to confess.

But his patience was far from infinite in this type of situation - oh, he was nearly always sweet and loving and attentive, and if he was teaching her something - like he was trying to help her learn to play the piano - he was the best, most patient of teachers ever. But this wasn't a teaching situation - at least it wasn't supposed to be that.

It was going to become even more of one, however, if she refused to admit her misbehavior.

His lovely Ivy was held tightly in his arms as they stood in their living room. She was wonderfully naked and he was still in the suit he'd worn to a photo shoot this afternoon. He kept her pressed close to him with a big hand splayed at the ultra-sensitive and vulnerable small of her back, the edge of his pinky finger just barely above the beginning of her bottom cleft, exerting a gentle but consistent pressure that kept her body arched into his, where he knew she couldn't help feeling his hardness rising insistently, threateningly, almost, against her belly.

He used just one bent finger to lift her chin so that she would have no choice but to look at him, although she was doing her best to avoid that fate for all she was worth, but finally her eyes skirted to his and settled there.

"Answer me, Ivy." This time his tone brooked no disobedience.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that that would not be considered an acceptable response to his question but too full of emotions - good and bad - to get any words past the way they squeezed her throat painfully tight.

His brows furrowed, face dark, he full on scolded, "You know better than that, my girl. I want a proper, verbal answer to my question, not just a nod of your pretty head."

Softly, hesitantly, she answered, "Yes, Sir, I - I did try to avoid you touching me."

Tom brushed her bright gold hair away from her face, his demeanor immediately returning to his usual very solicitous and caring self. "Are you feeling all right? Are you sick?" She didn’t look flushed with fever - at least not the kind inspired by illness. He could see the heightened color in her cheeks, could almost feel that - even through his layer of clothes - her deep rose colored nipples had pebbled against him, the sounds of her rough, stuttered breaths manna to his eager ears - but that was arousal, not sickness, unless he missed his guess.

"I'm fine, Sir."

"Are you hurting anywhere?" She had quite bad cluster headaches some times - she had told him with a broad smile while they were getting to know each other that she was a headachy person - she got them and she gave them in equal measure. And she had a problem with one ankle that had resulted from an ice skating injury when she was young, but other than that, she was very healthy - and he doing his best to see to it that she remained that way, keeping a watchful - although never overbearing - eye on what she ate and requiring that she exercise every day that he did - which was almost daily.

She shook her head, but also whispered with obvious reluctance, "No, Sir." The temptation was definitely there to lie to him - how would he really know? - but the sure knowledge of what he would do to her if he ever found out she'd lied was more than enough to keep her honest.

"Then, my darling, by your own words, you don't have the right to deny me your body at any time, but most especially when I've made it clear that I want to take you, do you?" came the devastatingly quiet question.

They both knew he was right, but he enjoyed making her confess her submission to him whenever the opportunity arose.

Ivy fidgeted, moving her feet nervously, knowing there was no hope of escaping him - in any way - even if she decided to flat out fight him, and the both of them knew just how hot that knowledge - the incontrovertible truth that he could overpower and overwhelm her defenses at will - got her.

"No, Sir, I don't," she barely breathed, knowing that, in admitting it, she was sealing her fate - but there were no other options. He had seen to that long since.

Tom considered the love of his life for a long moment, his face warm and gentle, eyes roaming avidly over her with loving possession. She had never tried to deny him her body before in any way. She'd very occasionally been less than enthusiastic when he'd reached for her, but she'd never been so bold as to actually _move away_ from his seeking hands - even before they'd added this delicious element of dominance and submission to their relationship, which had ratcheted up their already amazing sex life to stratospheric levels by making every interaction between them into something sexual, based on their positions. Everything they said, everything they did was sexually charged.

He had never felt happier, or been more fulfilled in a relationship, and God knows, he'd never had better sex in his life, and he had reason to believe she felt the same way.

Even in those rare instances when she had been less interested in making love than he was, he'd always been able to turn her around, to give her exactly what she needed, to use his body and his voice and his mind to arouse and completely fulfill her before taking his own pleasure of her body. He was a man who took the old adage, "ladies first," to heart. It was unutterably hot to bring her off at any time and in any way - and any reluctance she might feel simply added to his arousal. He loved challenging himself personally, and was more than willing to spend whatever time was necessary ensuring that she imploded in his arms as many times as he could manage to make her.

They were both very verbose, very sexual people, and they'd discussed what she might expect to happen if she refused him, and what he might do in regards to her rebelliousness, and it had gotten each of them unbearably hot. He'd secretly been hoping she might do that some time, and now that she had he could barely contain himself.

Tom bent his head to kiss her with exquisite tenderness, coaxing her to respond to him, taking his time, nibbling her lips open rather than forcing them as he could so easily do, but sometimes he found a subtler approach just as hot. His tongue tickled her teeth and she bloomed beneath him, granting him access to her deeper recesses where her tongue danced with his as he wrapped both arms around her and lifted her off her feet with a growl, making her clutch at his broad shoulders although he hoped she had no doubt that he would never allow her to fall or, for that matter, come to any harm ever in his care.

When he set her down, slowly dragging her body against his until the last possible moment before she landed on her feet, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her solicitously until he could see that - although her knees were definitely weak from his attentions - she could stand fine on her own.

The heat he'd felt practically branding his bulge while he held her had him curious, and he reached his cupped hand out, intent on exploring that hidden grotto, but as his hand moved forward, she bent at the waist and stepped back, away from him, grabbing futilely at his wrist, deliberately seeking to thwart his ability to touch her intimately - again.

Ivy felt him go stock still as she tried to ignore the feeling of the warm, hard muscles of his forearm beneath her fingers. 

Tom didn't say anything at first, face set, eyes piercing and full of reproach. And he didn't become angry or rant at her for her obvious disobedience. He simply jerked the arm she had taken possession of towards him, and she came with it. One hard arm slid around that small waist and she was again trapped against him.

But not for long.

Lips sought and found her ear. "And that little misbehavior - on top of the first one - just earned you double, I think." Her whimper got him impossibly harder behind the zipper of his suit pants, which he thought he might bust through at any given moment. "Go get your chair." Ivy shuddered against him, knowing what that meant for her. "And bring the ruler."

At his last words she gasped and began to struggle against him, as he'd known full well she would. But she also did exactly as she was told - if slowly - knowing she didn't ever want to hear him whisper, "Triple."

She wasn’t at all sure she was going to survive the doubling of the number of strokes he'd already had in mind to give her.

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Chair_zps088c7445.jpg.html)

"Her chair" was an innocuous enough looking occasional chair that might have been part of a set of dining room chairs at one time, but it had lost its mates long since. What was significant about it wasn't how old it was or its color, but rather that it was straight backed - the quintessential chair style in which to deliver a spanking over the spanker's lap.

Or, in this case, where the miscreant who was going to be on the receiving end bent over the back of the chair and grabbed the seat for all she was worth - because she certainly didn't want to get caught with her hands _anywhere_ else, no matter what the provocation at her other end.

Ivy found the chair where it always dwelt - in the corner of their bedroom, looking deceptively innocuous. No one who saw it would think it was anything other than a place to sit and pull on boots or whatever, but Ivy knew better.

Actually, in this case, Ivy knew worse. Much, much _worse_.

The ruler was kept in the top drawer of her dresser - for now. He had always threatened to put to put it on display somewhere in their room - where few people save themselves ever went, but still he'd known that just that idea had her flooding her panties.

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Tom/Ruler_zpsb2099ed8.jpg.html)

To call it a ruler was to refer mostly to it's shape - about a foot long and about an inch wide, but there the similarities ended. It actually more resembled a paint stirrer, with curved indentations on the handle end for the comfort - and increased grip - of the disciplinarian. The markings along the edge of it that would allow it to be used for measuring purposes were faded, and it was thicker than a regular ruler, although not by much.

She brought the chair out and put it down beside where he stood, hands on his hips, looking just slightly impatient with the way she'd dawdled, which had her stomach dipping down around her ankles with a _thunk_.

He put his hand out for the implement and she placed it there with obvious reluctance, then found herself drawn inexorably against him and kissed with excruciating tenderness.

There was something about being thoroughly kissed and held tightly by his one arm to a man who was holding the implement with which he was going to punish you in his stronger other hand.

Tom pressed his forehead to hers, his grip around her waist even tighter.. "You know that there are no words adequate in the English language - not even Shakespeare's - to convey just how much I love you, don't you? I could _not_ do this for you if I didn't, and I _wouldn't_ do it for you unless I thought you got something very important out of it."

Ivy nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I adore you, too."

He gave her a soft smile, then another heart rending kiss.

"Go stand by the chair. I need to get ready."

Ivy did as she was told, her eyes never leaving him.

[](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Sleeves1_zps818d7f65.gif.html) [](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Sleeves2_zpsa7e5e582.gif.html) [](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Sleeves3_zps55660021.gif.html)

He stood less than three feet away, having put the ruler down on the nearby coffee table, taking off his suit coat, which he placed carefully over the back of the couch, then turning to catch her eye as he undid his cuff links to place them on the end table. He turned back and locked his eyes with hers, where she was standing with the back of the chair to her front, as he began to roll up his sleeves - deliberately watching _her_ watch _him_ perform this neat, somehow excruciatingly intimate ritual that held such meaning for the two of them, seeing pure, unadulterated desire for him rise in her eyes as it always did when he indulged in the little formal customs they both enjoyed.

Tom let his eyes wander only once, to take her in from the top of her golden head to the bright red tips of her toenails, missing not one thing about her in between. He could see her trembling, see her nervousness in the way she worried her bottom lip, and when his eyes sought and found hers again - as he moved to his other arm - he could clearly see in their depths just how much he had already made her want him - even against her will.

Having made it much more comfortable for him to swing his arm to bring the ruler crashing down onto her behind, he commanded quietly, "Bend over, my love," as he came to stand to her left.

She obeyed immediately and he had to suppress a smile. It was amazing how the imminent reality of a punishment made her so eagerly compliant, and he knew that that behavior would continue for some times afterwards, too. 

Tom placed a hand on her back. He liked, if possible, to touch her elsewhere while she was being punished, just as another point of reference for her, he supposed, another connection between the two of them that didn't involve pain. He took a moment to indulge himself in the sight of her bent over the back of the chair, which was relatively tall and required that she raise herself on her tiptoes in order to be able to reach down and grip the seat as he required. She had the most gorgeous, roses and cream complexion, flawless skin from stem to stern, her bottom - which wasn't going to be remaining that pristine color for very long in a few minutes - forced into more enticing prominence than usual.

"Spread your legs," the command rumbled out of deep in his chest and again she obeyed immediately, which put a small smile on his face, knowing she did so even though she would hate the way it accented her vulnerability to feel her most intimate parts being held open that way.

He couldn't resist running the hand that held the implement over the full curve of her backside, squeezing just a bit, audaciously sending two fingers into the heat and heart of her as she squirmed and fidgeted at the humiliation of him boldly fondling her like that - as if he had every right to, and he did - but she didn't break position.

The pads of those big fingers were immediately baptized in a true flood of the unmistakable evidence of her desire. Tom came to squat by her head, completely unable to stop himself from burying his free hand in her hair as he presented the evidence to her by placing the tips of his fingers directly under her nose.

"Do you know how hard this makes me?" he asked as he rubbed his fingers together. "To think that you get this hot when I'm going to punish you - look at my fingers. That's _you_ that's dripping from them. There's going to be a damp spot on the carpet beneath you. I want to fuck you _so hard_ right now -" He took a deep, ragged breath, evidence of just how far gone he was. But he had nothing if not a supreme strength of will. "Unfortunately for you, though, that's _not_ what I'm going to do - not until afterwards."

He rose and she knew that the start of the agony he would create within her was imminent.

And it was.

It didn't seem to matter how often he spanked her. She was never, ever prepared enough for just how much it hurt, the first stroke causing her to lose control of her breath, and he'd slipped at least another five in before she could draw air back into her aching lungs only to expel it again - even more violently - on a high pitched cry that never seemed to end.

He was much too fucking damned good at this. Hell, she knew for a fact that he'd researched the most effective methods of punishing a sub online, the bastard, because he'd shown her some of the sites he'd gone to.

Ivy could have lived without those particular images in her mind, especially when he could - and did - recreate them so perfectly - and completely ruthlessly, relentlessly - on her helpless backside, decorating it with livid red stripes of the ruler from its enticing crest to halfway down the backs of her thighs as she begged him to stop from almost that first loud _thwack_. 

By the time he walked over to the coffee table and put the implement down, they were both panting, but only one of them was sobbing frantically.

There was only one thought in Ivy's mind - how much she desperately wanted to reach back and rub her bottom, but she knew better than to do that unless she wanted another round on top of what she'd already been given - and she most _definitely_ did _not_.

Her hair had long since fallen into her eyes, tendrils darkening with tears and clinging to her cheeks as she'd dipped and rolled and twisted and jerked her head up while he'd disciplined her, so she couldn't see him but she could hear him moving to stand behind her, squatting between her legs to reach up into her privates again - which was a misnomer because she wasn't much allowed to keep anything private from him any more.

Especially not this particular area of her person.

And Ivy was humiliated to realize that her body was creating even more of a flood as he delved eagerly between her folds - almost but not quite up inside her - his fingers encountering a veritable ocean of her sweet essence.

When he moved around to her head, brushing her hair back away from her face and lifting her chin, bringing her eyes to his, he said, in his "I have an army" voice, "God, I love making you dance like that! It's almost as good as making you cum, or hearing your breath hitch as it always does when I first take you." His lips were right next to her ear as he whispered, "And I'm going to do exactly that right now - I'm going to fuck you, and there is nothing and no one in the world who can stop me." He paused for just a few seconds for effect. "And I'm going to make certain that you enjoy every, single second of it."

With that promise, he returned to stand behind her again.

Although she was smart enough not to let go of the seat of the chair, Ivy still struggled as if she was trying to get away from him but was held by some sort of invisible bonds.

And, of course, she was.

"No, please, Sir," she whimpered pitifully.

One hand unzipped and freed himself, his cock unfurling to its fullest - finally free of the close confines of his trousers - while the other patted the crimson, angry looking bottom it had so recently chastised, patting and squeezing and even pinching occasionally, the latter two ministrations making her head come up as she groaned and tried to cringe away from his touch - not that she got anywhere at all despite her valiant attempts. There was nowhere for her hips to go except to crash up against the back of the chair.

He'd said it himself a few seconds ago - nothing and no one could stop him - not just from fucking her, but from doing _anything_ he wanted to with her.

Then, abruptly, he took a step forward, placing his eager cock at the entrance to where it most wanted to be but no further. He was standing between her already wide spread legs, slowly forcing them even further apart by his own power stance, until her vulnerable lower body was pretty much balanced on the broad tip of his manhood.

Tom bent over her then, covering her body with his, his height a distinct advantage in this particular position. "It should go without saying that you are not to fight me - not that you can. And that you're not to let go of that seat no matter what I do to you, or I'll give you _another_ round with the ruler, and I won't be as lenient with you as I was this time."

 _Lenient_?! That was _lenient_?!

On his way to standing again, he'd grabbed her hair in his left hand, using it as a rein to force her head up and her back to arch just shy of the point of discomfort.

"Please - don't -Sir - Tom - no - pleeaassee!" she whimpered, knowing it would do no good but unable to halt the words anyway.

With the sure knowledge that she knew exactly what to say if she truly wanted him to stop, Tom chuckled - and it was far from a pleasant sound - at the same time he snapped his hips forward, pulling back on her hair at the same time, burying himself deep within her in a single powerful thrust that tore a startled cry from her throat that drifted into a soft chanting of "No, no, no!"

But he had already made it "yes".

While he could feel her body still trying to find a way to cope with his violent invasion, he began to pump himself in and out of her, bottoming out each time, bending over her to grope and squeeze a bobbing breast, thumbing her nipple, squeezing it tightly at the base then flicking his finger over the very sensitive tip.

Ivy was completely surrounded by him, filled to overflowing by his cock, overwhelmed in every possible way by his absolute, undeniable possession of her.

She was _his_ , in the truest, most sexual sense of the word.

And every other manner, for that matter.

And, God help her, as he'd said he'd make sure she did - she loved every single second of it - even the most painful ones.

Perhaps those more than others, in fact.

He gave her what she needed, fulfilled every want and desire, as she did for him.

They were perfectly and completely matched and unmatched in all of the best, most excruciating ways a couple could be, and the purest evidence of that was in her wails - which had begun as protests but had rapidly been converted to cries of impending ecstasy.

"I love fucking you anyway I can, but I love it best when I've just blistered your bum - it’s very hot up against me when I fuck myself into you, balls deep, opening you up for me, using all of that slickness of yours to fill you completely, every time. This is where you best belong, my Princess, beneath me, being taken hard so that you will never doubt who owns you, who has the right to punish you or fuck you at will." As his low growl rippled roughly through her, the fingers of Tom's free hand found her button - generously moistened by her own juices - and began to rub the big pad of his finger - which covered every single bit of it at once - over it, side to side, very slowly.

He knew she was already extremely close, and he liked to drag out those precursor sensations - that all over body tingle, the involuntary but excruciatingly pleasurable tightening of her muscles that signaled to him that it was all over for her - that her orgasms were inevitable from this point on - as they had been from the moment he'd reached for her and she'd shied away long moments ago - from the moment he had first kissed her - first _really_ kissed her nearly six months ago - and from the very second he had laid eyes on her over a year ago.

Her orgasms from him were always a foregone conclusion - when he _allowed_ her to experience them.

The closer she got, the slower that torturous finger was deliberately dragged over the center of her pleasure, but the faster and harder he drove himself into her, her stunted, desperate cries of a rapture delayed by him spurring him on like nothing else could, until she screamed at the inevitable moment, "No, please, no, Tom!"

His answering "Yes!" was barely intelligible, his teeth were clenched so tightly while he rode her as she came apart beneath him, keening almost eerily and clutching at him internally with amazing strength that repeatedly clamped onto him with truly impressive strength, then ebbed away very slowly, and in only a few more short, very sharp strokes, he had to surrender himself to the dictates of his own body, groaning her name and slamming himself into her one last time as he spurted deep within her, then collapsed bonelessly over her, not a coherent thought in that big brain of his, teeth tingling, lips tingling, fingertips nearly numb from lack of oxygen.

"Tom?" came her small voice from beneath him.

Nothing.

She wondered if she'd killed him.

"Tom!"

"Mmm?" his severely reluctant, monosyllabic answer was mumbled into her ear.

"I'm sorry to say this - you know how much I love you to be on top of me - but I'm afraid that this position really isn't the best for that."

"Mmmm," was his only answer.

Finally, she yelled, which she never, ever did, but it was rapidly getting to be a problem. "TOM! GET UP! I can't _breathe_!"

She'd never seen him move so fast - especially not going from complete jelly to lifting first himself up and off of her and then her into his arms, sliding her down his body and running his hands over her at the same time, a completely panicked look on his face.

"God, babylove, I'm so sorry - you just - I was -" He blushed brightly and that brought a huge smile to her face. 

"I feel exactly the same way - you're just so big that in that position your weight on me cuts off my Air Supply - " He still looked horrified and terribly worried that he might have done permanent damage, so she quipped, "And my REO Speedwagon, too . . ."

He smirked down at her but she could tell he still wasn't convinced she was ok. "Very funny. Stop punning while I'm having a goddamn heart attack, thinking I was killing you."

Still wearing a big unrepentant grin, Ivy would have moved away from him, but his greedy arms wouldn't let her loose. Wanting to dispel the true regret and concern she saw on his face, she cupped it in her palms the way he often did to her, rubbing noses with him. "I'm fine. I promise. I would tell you if I wasn't."

He didn't look completely convinced, but he did look more relaxed. "I'm so sorry. It - I - we -" He swallowed hard, his usual facile command of the language just gone, blown away by what they'd both experienced.

Ivy wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his chest. "I feel exactly the same way, Thomas." She pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him with every bit of love she felt in it. "Thank you for loving me so much," she whispered, tears nearly choking off the last words.

At first, Tom couldn't respond - his voice just wouldn't work; his throat was too clogged with emotion. Finally, he got out hoarsely, "Thank you for loving me enough to _let_ me love you this way."

Ivy popped up on tiptoes to lean herself against him, her body still humming from what they'd just done, surprising her by perking to life in places when she realized that she was still fully naked and he might as well have been still fully dressed, open fly aside.

Gripping his cheeks again, she kissed him deeply, then said, "Thomas, take me to bed."

He didn't have to be told twice as he swung her up into his arms and did just that.


End file.
